


Up on the Roof of the Wagon

by sockablock



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Bonding, Canon-Typical Violence, Ensemble Fic, Gen, MAJOR episode 26 spoilers, So much angst, Team as Family, and fluff, im so sad, oh god im so upset guys, the family of mollymauk tealeaf
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-13
Updated: 2018-07-13
Packaged: 2019-06-10 02:00:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15281121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sockablock/pseuds/sockablock
Summary: —“All I want, Nott the Brave,allI want, is to see as much of this world I can, get laid as much as I can, and enjoy life as much as physically possible.”“Alright then,” sighed Nott. “Alright. I suppose we’ll make sure that happens.”“Thank you,” Molly said.“You’re welcome.”(or: i am suffering from episode 26)





	Up on the Roof of the Wagon

**Author's Note:**

> so uh, 
> 
> that happened

“Do you ever think about dying?”

Yasha turned her head slowly to the lazy shape of Molly seated beside her, up on the roof of their squat, weathered travelling wagon. He had his arms out behind him, leaning against his palms and gazing at the sea of stars above. His coat was draped across his lap like a blanket and his posture was peaceful, pensive.

“Why?” Yasha asked. “Are you...er…considering dying, any time soon?”

He laughed, and shook his head. “No, no gods, of course not. I was just...curious. I mean, you always run headfirst into battles with bandits and highwaymen. And while all of us are forever appreciative of your fighting capabilities, sometimes I wonder if you’re ever worried about yourself.”

Yasha considered this for a moment. Then she shrugged. “Why be worried? We are only alive for so long anyway. I seek the thrill of battle, the energy of a fight, and if I am protecting my companions at the same time then why concern myself with fear? All it can do is hold you back and distract you from the things in life that you are trying to live for.”

Molly was quiet as he let her words sink in. He turned to her, and grinned.

“You really are quite clever, aren’t you?”

She raised an eyebrow. “Not many people have said that to me before.”

Molly scoffed, and pointed a finger under her nose. “Then not many people have ever really gotten to know you, dear! Luckily,” he added, thrusting a thumb towards his chest, “this tiefling has. And he’s pretty sure you’re his favorite.”

Yasha chuckled at that. “I _am_ quite lucky then, aren’t I?”

“Don’t worry,” he grinned. Under the moonlight, his eyes glowed a soft, fading red. “I think I’m pretty lucky too.”

\--------------------------------------------

“ _Gods_ ,” Molly sighed as he collapsed onto the bed. “That was a rough day, eh?”

Fjord nodded, raising his foot onto the chair by the door to unlace his boots. “It sure was. Did you even know scorpions could _get_ that big?”

“Absolutely not,” Molly said. “Nice of the town to let us stay the night for free, though.”

“It was the least they could do,” Fjord shrugged, and moved to his other shoe. “That was _way_ too much effort for a bunch of random folk out in the middle of nowhere.”

“Aw, Fjord, don’t you believe in doing kindness for kindness’s sake?”

Fjord snorted and turned to face Molly. “Sure I do,” he said, “but I’d _prefer_ it if we also got paid for it. Especially if we almost died fightin’ the damn blighters.”

“Ah, but we _didn’t_ die,” Molly said, waggling a finger. “That’s the important bit.”

“So you don’t care that Nott got tossed into the air by a giant set of pincers and that another one almost ate me?”

“Sure I do,” Molly grinned, echoing Fjord’s tone from before. “But she did a flip and landed on the thing’s head and shot a crossbow bolt through its eyeball right afterwards, and you’re still standing here, aren’t you?’

Fjord rolled his eyes. “I suppose that’s true. Though I still think we could stand to be a bit less reckless.”

“Ah, _that_ I agree with,” Molly nodded. “Next time we shouldn’t let Jester run ahead like that.”

“Definitely.”

Fjord made his way over to the patch of floor next to Molly and spread his bedroll down on the wood. He stretched, and in an instant went from vertical to horizontal and eyes closed, spread-eagle on the ground.

“I’m exhausted,” he muttered, and turned over onto his stomach. “G’night, Molly.”

“Good night, Fjord,” Molly called from three feet up. “Don’t let the scorpions bite.”

“I don’t plan on it, thanks,” Fjord said, and soon after, they both fell asleep.

\--------------------------------------------

“Bullshit,” said Molly as he sat at the back of the wagon with Beau. “You can’t just change the game like that as we’re playing.”

“I didn’t change it,” Beau said, though there was an element of satisfied smugness in her tone. “You just didn’t ask.”

“So you mean because I didn’t ask if there were any hidden rules, it’s _my_ fault for not knowing that horses were worth twice as much as cows?”

“Exactly,” Beau agreed. “ 'My Cow' is a traditional, time-honored, travelling classic. I’m surprised you’ve never played it before, what with being on the road so much and all.”

“Usually we have better things to do while we’re travelling,” Molly said. “Like making sure there aren’t bandits, or practicing our shows, or playing games that aren’t dumb.”

“This game isn’t _dumb_ ,” Beau said defensively, “it's _childhood_.”

“Oh? I thought you said you didn’t have a childhood?”

“Nah, I had one, it just wasn’t mine.”

He gave her a long, long stare. The sprawling hills of the countryside slowly rolled by.

“One day we’re going to unpack all of that,” he said. “I don’t care about your past but every once in a while you say something that makes me start to.”

She shrugged, and smirked. “You can try, Tealeaf, but I ain’t openin’ up to you. Beau’s story is for people she _likes_.”

“People you _like_? So what, you mean Yash—” Molly began, but was abruptly cut off as Beau slammed a hand over his mouth and glanced panickily behind them at the rest of the group. 

Everybody else was napping peacefully under the bright afternoon sun. Except for Fjord, at the reins, who grinned and winked knowingly at them both before turning back to the road.

“Fuck you,” Beau grumbled. “Not cool.”

“Why not?” Molly asked. “You’re both adults, aren’t you? What, you can’t admit you have a crush?”

Beau sunk lower in her seat. “So what if I can’t?” she asked. “What’s it to you?”

“Yasha is my best friend,” Molly shrugged. “I have a personal stake in this.”

“I wish you didn’t,” Beau muttered. “That would make this so much easier.”

“Just _talk_ to her,” Molly sighed, and fell backwards into the cart to stare up at the blue sky and the trailing clouds. “It’ll make this so much less awkward, and so much less painful for me to watch.”

“I can’t just do that!” Beau hissed. “Are you crazy? You _never_ tell a girl that you like her.”

“Who said that?” Molly demanded.

Beau shrugged. "Dunno. It’s just common knowledge, I guess.”

“I don’t think it’s knowledge so much as stupidity,” Molly snorted. “You have to tell people these things, don’t they have a right to know? And if you never do anything, you could miss your chance.”

“Miss my chance? What, you mean lose her to some other chick?”

“Or man, or neither, you don’t know what Yasha prefers. And anyways, I was referring to the fact that we could die tomorrow.”

Beau gave him an incredulous stare. “That’s...that’s a joke, right?” she asked eventually. “Right?”

“Of course not,” Molly said. “Have you been paying attention to our daily lives? We’re always running around jumping into battle and we fight anything and everything that crosses our path.”

“That’s kind of morbid, isn’t it?”

“It doesn’t have to be,” Molly shrugged. “I just meant it as more of a…of a seize the moment and live your life sort of thing. Don’t let any opportunity pass you by, no matter what. Live as much as you can, as quickly as you can.” 

Beau took a second to consider this. “Nah,” she said. “I’m good. I’m gonna live fucking forever, Molly.”

He burst out laughing. A couple of the others stirred, before turning around and continuing to snore.

“That’s hilarious,” Molly sighed, rubbing at the corners of his eyes. “Sure, Beau, sure.”

“Well,” she grumbled, “Not _forever_. I mean, not really. But it’s not like I expect to drop dead at any second. What the…what the fuck? Why do you even _think_ that?”

Molly briefly glanced back to a large shape sleeping near the front, her massive black shawl drawn tightly around her shoulders.

“I think you should talk to Yasha,” he said again, closing his eyes. “You two would really get along, if you didn’t always act so weird.”

“Uh...thanks, I think?”

“Don’t mention it,” he mumbled, putting his hands behind his head like a pillow and letting the sun warm his skin. He took a long, slow breath, and waited for sleep to take him.

\--------------------------------------------

Molly saw a pair of bright yellow eyes shine back at him through the darkness, and sighed.

“Nott, what did we say about going through people’s stuff?”

He saw the eyes widen, and then narrow, and then they started getting closer. A few seconds later, Nott appeared in the clear patch of grass where the group had built their campfire for the night, the flames illuminating her small form. She clambered onto the log next to Molly, who was keeping watch by himself.

“See anything interesting?” she asked in a shrill, conversational tone. “Anything worth noting?”

“It’s the strangest thing,” nodded Molly, “but I think I just saw a goblin about to rob us. Isn’t that odd?”

“Oh, fuck off,” she sighed. “We said I could steal from grumpy people, and you said Beau qualified, didn’t you?”

“Okay, point taken, carry on.”

“Thanks. And anyways, I _meant_ if you saw any danger, or anything.”

“Nothing that isn’t three feet tall and green,” he shrugged. “Why?”

“ _Why?_ ” Nott raised an eyebrow. “You’re supposed to be guarding us, aren’t you?”

“Yes, dear, but there isn’t anything that needs my guardianship, at the moment.”

“Do you know for sure?” she pressed. “Have you really been keeping a keen eye out? Making sure we won’t get ambushed by a terrible ogre or crazed troll or a mad necromancer or a...a...swarm of coyotes?”

“I don’t think they travel in swarms, Nott.”

“Are you a scholar?”

“Alright, fair.”

“I just don’t want to get killed in my sleep,” Nott said, swinging her feet off the side of the log. “I’ve got too much to live for.”

“Like what, dear?”

“Oh, lots of stuff,” Nott shrugged. “I’ve got to keep Caleb alive, and you all alive by extension. There’s a million shiny things out there I haven’t stolen yet, and I bet there’s so much more alcohol I haven’t tried. Plus I still don’t know what it’s like to live a normal life. I don’t plan on dying before I get that.”

Molly tapped his chin. “I agree with keeping us alive,” he said, “and with getting shiny things and drinking my brains away, but I don’t know about that last one. I think a normal life is overrated.”

“Of course you’d think that,” Nott said, rolling her eyes. “You’re a normal person.”

Molly opened his mouth, and then cocked his head, and then closed his mouth. He considered this.

“Am I?” he asked. “Take a real, real good look at me, Nott. _Am_ I?”

“Well, more or less normal. More normal. Normal-adjacent. Whereas I, Mollymauk, am 100% not normal. My people live in caves and eat children, remember? That’s not even a stereotype or a misconception! We _literally_ eat children and _literally_ live in caves!”

“But _you_ don’t,” Molly said. 

“No,” Nott sighed, “I don’t. And I almost got killed because of it.”

“Well, don’t worry,” Molly shrugged. “If that’s what you want, we’ll make sure nothing happens to you before you get it. And then when you see how stupid conformity is, us normal-adjacent people will be right behind you.”

Nott snorted at that. “Alright,” she agreed. “That sounds good to me. And if you ever figure out that you want to know more about your past—”

“All I want, Nott the Brave, _all_ I want, is to see as much of this world I can, get laid as much as I can, and enjoy life as much as physically possible.”

“Alright then,” sighed Nott. “Alright. I suppose we’ll make sure that happens.”

“Thank you,” he said.

“You’re welcome.”

\--------------------------------------------

Molly watched in amazement as the flames in Caleb’s palm suddenly turned a bright blue, then faded to green, then yellow, then violet, before fizzling out and dying in his hand.

“Brilliant!” he laughed, and clapped. “Do it again!”

Caleb sighed and shook his head. “It was not complete,” he muttered. “I do not understand what I am doing _wrong_. This should be so simple, Jester does it as easily as breathing.”

Molly shrugged, and leaned back against the boulder they sat beside in this open field. Every once in a while the wind would drift by and skim the surface of the tall grass.

“I thought it was marvelous. Don’t beat yourself up about it.”

Caleb ran his fingers through his hair. “I should be _better_ , though. This is mere child’s play.”

“Now, now, that attitude is pointless,” Molly sighed. “How is dwelling like this going to help you?”

“It’s not,” Caleb muttered, “but you cannot deny that something as, as trivial as changing colors should have come to me _like that_.” He snapped his fingers.

“So what?” Molly asked. “So what if it is? Why think about it?”

“Because it is the truth!” Caleb snapped. “How much of a failure I am, how pitiful that attempt was, it is pure and uncut fact and there is nothing I can do—”

“Wrong.”

“What?”

“ _Wrong!_ ” Molly cried, and threw his hands up into the air. “So what if that’s true? _Lots_ of things are true! Lots of terrible, awful, downright bloody horrible things are true! This country is at war and the government is corrupt and there’s violence and terror everywhere! But you can’t let that get in the way of _living_! You can’t just think about the negative, or else there’s no _point_ anymore! The point is what you decide to do _despite_ all the garbage everywhere. This world is a fucking mess and that’s the truth but it’s the one I crawled into and by the gods, Caleb Widogast, I’m going to do everything in my insignificant, meaningless power to make sure I leave it better than I found it. And if that means beating into your thick skull that you aren’t as much of a failure as you think you are, then so be it! I don’t care if you think you’re terrible at magic, I care about you getting _better_. And that starts with you shutting up, and not worrying so much about what you _should_ be, and thinking more about what you’ve already done. _Fuck_ the truth.”

A cool breeze blew across the valley, over the grass and through their hair, before fading into the distance.

“I do not agree with everything you said,” Caleb mumbled eventually, “but I suppose some of that has some merit.”

“That’s a start, isn’t it?”

They sat there in silence for a few more beats.

“What was the problem with it anyways?” Molly asked. “You _got_ a bunch of colors, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” Caleb sighed, “but I did not get them all. You saw, I missed orange and—”

He stopped and hit his forehead.

“What did you miss, dear?” Molly asked again, sweetly, with a shit-eating grin on his face. “Which colors?”

“Orange and red,” Caleb grumbled. “I missed orange and red.”

“And what colors is fire _naturally_ , Caleb?”

“...orange and red.”

“So therefore in truth, your spell really is…?

Caleb sighed deeply, and closed his eyes, and leaned back against the boulder with Molly. “...complete,” he muttered.

“No, dear. It was perfect."

\--------------------------------------------

“I am very happy we met, Molly,” Jester giggled as she braided a trail of tiny blue wildflowers into his hair. They were seated by a slow-running creek in the woods off the Amber Road, where the party had just completed a day of travelling. Somewhere in the distance, Beau and Fjord were trying to catch fish for dinner.

“I’m glad we met too, dear,” Molly said cheerfully. “It’s nice to see someone _colorful_ around, for a change.”

“It is weird, isn’t it?” Jester agreed. “I mean, back home there was _everybody_ of every kind! People that looked like giant cats or had six eyes or bright green hair or sharp pointy teeth! It was so much more _fun_.”

“I’d love to see that,” Molly sighed. “It sounds wonderful. You know, I’d never seen another tiefling before, until you.”

“ _What_?” Jester blinked in surprise. “ _Never_? Not anywhere in your travelling or in taverns or on the road or not even you par—”

She faltered, and her hand fell to her side. “Oh,” she said. “Right. Um...sorry.”

He chuckled, and passed her a sprig of lavender. “It’s alright dear. I’m not bothered by it.”

“I know you always say that,” Jester sighed as she accepted the flower, “but do you really mean it? Really-really? You don’t care at all?”

“Maybe I care a little,” Molly admitted, “but I’m not going to think about it. What’s the use? It’s not like I need them.”

“But you do not want to know where you came from? Who your family was?”

Molly shook his head, which dislodged a few small petals. “I _know_ where I came from,” he said. “A hole in the ground somewhere up north. And I know who my family was too, it was the circus. Now it’s you lot. Right?”

Jester giggled at that. “I guess so,” she laughed. “I have a family, you know, my momma and my dad, wherever he is. But I also think I have another family now. You, and the rest of the Mighty Nein. I like you guys a lot.”

“Good,” grinned Molly. “I happen to be quite attached to the group as well. And I don’t plan on going anywhere, so I think you can count on us sticking together for a while.”

Jester pushed a tiny flower between his curly locks. “I’d like that,” she said with a faint smile. 

“Me too, dear. Me too.”

\--------------------------------------------

Smoke curled up from the grass where Caleb’s blasts had scorched the ground, sent embers up into the night sky and dark trails of ash in the dirt. One of the tall carts lay in ruins to the side, the felled tree still creaking dangerously from its position half-smashing the tarp over the wagon.

All around them, the battle raged on. Beau was a whirl of fists and flash of blue, Nott sent crossbow bolts like vengeful rain across the field as she sprinted to find and unlock the cages. The half-orc druid had fallen quickly, blood pooling around her, and some of the others had taken hits, but mostly, their enemies, these Iron Shepherds, hardly had a scratch on them. The sorcerer thrust her hand out, trying to pin them down as the barbarian raged across the field. The thugs swam sluggishly through the air, but their weapons were still drawn and glinting evilly with rust and blood, slowed but still lethal. And their leader, the towering, brutish, bald figure, stood virtually untouched while the chaos continued.

Molly yanked his sword back, glinting gold in the low firelight, and looked up. He Lorenzo saw wipe the corner of his mouth, saw the freezing storm of ice still chilling the night air. His horrible tattoos curled around a hard, sharp jaw. He slammed his glaive against the ground as the wintery burst faded, and turned to face Molly. He wore a smile—jagged, and cruel, like a feral dragon ready to pounce.

Molly glanced around, saw Nott reeling from the wave of cold, saw Beau shake a bleeding fist, saw a crossbow bolt soar through the air to where Caleb was hiding.

He clutched his swords and grit his teeth and burst forward, scaling over the upturned cart, dashing across the blood-soaked grass and lunging for Lorenzo’s form.

He thought about Beau, pointing at some cows from the back of a cart. 

His first strike found purchase, cut deep into the man’s flesh, and he spun around again with his other hand.

He thought about Nott, swinging her legs of the side of a log. 

With a sickening, wet tear, the blade sliced through Lorenzo’s chest.

He thought about Caleb, out in the meadow, holding a purple flame in his hands. 

Another attack, another frenzied whirl with his weapon, and as he backed away and readied himself he saw Lorenzo raise that awful, glinting glaive, and instinctually, Molly did what he always did—

—he called upon his own blood, dug into his body for an unknown power, ripped one last fragment of vitality out of his soul to twist like a weapon and blind his attacker and save his friends—

—and suddenly in a sickening burst realized he had nothing left, _had nothing left_ —

He sucked in a sharp breath. His eyes went wide. He felt the life drain out of his body, and he collapsed onto the ground.

He looked up into the face of his killer, and saw a flicker of confusion, then the smooth, quiet satisfaction of victory on its knees before him. 

Lorenzo took a step forwards.

“Any last words?”

Molly thought about Jester with her wildflowers by the river, thought about Fjord asleep on the wooden floor of their room, thought about Yasha glowing in the starlight on the roof of their wagon, Yasha, his closest friend, Yasha, Yasha, _how lucky he had been to know her, to know them all, really_ —

Molly thought of all that he had seen, and all that he hadn’t. All that he had known, and all that he wouldn’t.

_Do you ever think about dying?_

Yes, he thought. But he wouldn't let _this_ fucker know that.

He looked up, and spat into the cold face looming over him. 

Lorenzo nodded. “Respect,” he said, and lifted the glaive.

In the dark, for just a moment, Molly’s eyes glowed a soft, fading red.

And then, nothing.

**Author's Note:**

> [y'all know where to find me to scream about this](https://www.sockablock.tumblr.com) and i love you all


End file.
